


Shield, Spear and Sword

by a_crested_eagle



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Odyssey, Battle, F/F, Gen, might be overdoing it with the grapfic descriptions of violence tag but better safe than sorry, mostly combat scenes, we all know that spartans were gay af I dont need to put m/m on the tags right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_crested_eagle/pseuds/a_crested_eagle
Summary: A semi-realistic imagining of a territory battle. Basically, it's Kassandra kicking ass.
Relationships: Kassandra/Roxana (Assassin's Creed)
Kudos: 8





	Shield, Spear and Sword

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: Worse quality than my usual writing but this was written (and posted as is) at like 1 am so I don't really care to edit it.

The smell of sweat and human waste filled her nostrils. It was all she had smelled these past two days. Even though they were camped on the beach, the stench of the two military camps was much more prevalent than the occasional sea breeze.

Kassandra was just about to snap. She couldn’t sit still and was passing up and down the Spartan camp.  
It wasn’t the coming battle that unnerved her, nor the stench. Not the fanaticism of the soldiers, nor the occasional feeling of hungry eyes on her back.  
It was the stillness. The waiting. 

She heard a loud thud behind her. She gritted her teeth without looking. The soldiers were practising to pass the time. She would gladly give up half her payment to join them in their spar, but she had been banned from doing so. She scoffed at the memory. It wasn’t her fault the boy had underestimated her. He should have fought seriously like he would with any other man. He had even smiled before they entered the circle. Well, his smile would be crocked from now on, missing all his front teeth at such a young age... She almost felt bad. Almost.

* * *

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the Athenian hoplites moving into formation.

“POSITIONS!” the lookout yelled, alerting the camp.

In less than a minute, the Spartans were at the ready, marching in perfect formation out of the camp.

Kassandra moved to her armaments and picked up her shield. A huge round mass of wood and bronze that covered her from shoulders to knees. A drawing of Ikaros killing a snake was painted at the front. The shield of the Eagle Bearer. She rested the shield on her shoulder, transferring its weight from her hand to her shoulder.   
With her free hand, she put on her helmet. It was of polished bronze with silver linings and a small but beautiful purple plume. The dye had cost her more than two good hands on Adrestia, and the unusual colour made her a target on the battlefield, but she had a reputation to uphold.  
The Spartan phalanx was already moving, but Kassandra took her time.  
She tightened the strap at her thigh that held the spear of her ancestor. It shined gold and bright, another call to glory for the man who would manage to kill her.  
She readjusted the short-sword that hung from her left hip. That blade was a stranger to her. Only a few days ago, it was being forged at the hands of a blacksmith in Crete. It would take more than a few swings to make it her own.

“Eagle Bearer!” the Spartan commander yelled from the phalanx.

They were advancing slower now. The first row had their shields packed tightly in front of them, the rest were holding them high above their heads. Spears extended far forward, ready to strike.   
The Athenians had stopped, forming their own, slopier shield wall. Kassandra knew that the real danger was hiding behind the hoplites. The whole world knew how deadly the Athenian archers were.

Kassandra grabbed her own spear from where she had stuck it in the sand and run to the phalanx.

* * *

Not having a shield brother, she took to the left side of the formation, closer to the sea.  
A small breeze hit her as she took her place, countering the heat of the scorching sun above her and pushing the smell of the men’s sweat away.  
She took a big breath, drawing in the familiar salty smell. Most of her jobs were on land, but the sea was her true home.  
She glanced at the sea. Far at the distance, she could see Adrestia clashing with two smaller Athenian ships. She could almost hear the sound of splintering wood when one of the smaller ships got hit by Adrestia’s ram.  
She grinned maliciously. The Athenians were expecting the reinforcements that were in these ships. They still outnumbered the Spartans, but no sane person would be confident in their odds against Spartans unless they outnumbered them three to one. The Athenians' current fifty to twenty-eight wasn’t the best odds they could wish for.  
A good five thousand meters away, the Athenian shields faltered for a second. They quickly packed their shields together again. They planned to stand their ground.

* * *

After a staredown that lasted a few minutes, the Spartan commander gave the order to move forward.

They moved like a single entity, Kassandra lagging behind. She followed as close as she could, keeping an eye to the sky.  
Soon, she saw what she was looking for. A thin dark shadow flew from behind the Athenian shield-wall. She raised her shield and moved as close as possible to the man on her right. Unable to see, she only heard the arrows’ muffled thud and the grunting of the men near her. Her own shield absorbed the hits of four arrows. Good. That meant they had noticed her.

They kept moving at the same pace. Another volley was blocked by the red Spartan shields. If men were down, their stupid pride would have kept their lips shut, so Kassandra couldn't know if they had sustained any losses.

“NOTCH ARROWS!”

They were close enough to hear the Athenian commander.

“AIM!”

The man next to her snickered.

“RELEASE!”

Once more, the volley failed to do any major damage. An arrow-head pierced Kassandra’s shield and left a thin red line on her forearm. She only noticed it by looking, her rising adrenaline muffling the pain.

“SHIELDS AT THE READY!”

The Athenian commander again. Kassandra lowered her shield to look at their formation. They were close. 50 meters, maximum. Their shields were slightly smaller, but their ranks were both thicker and longer. The sides of the phalanx would have the hardest job.   
And she was to hold one side almost by herself.   
People had called her a demi-goddess more than once but she still bled. Fear tightened her stomach for a moment, then the adrenaline pushed her it away. Or rather, it turned the fear into excitement. This would be a good fight!

Forty meters. One last volley flew towards them, this time in-between the Athenian shields. The man next to her grunted in pain and almost fell, an arrow sticking through his right shin. The man near him kept him standing by leaning even more towards him. All while reassuring him softly, as if they were back in their tent and not about to fight the men ahead.

Thirty meters. The Athenian spears stiffened.

Twenty meters. The Spartan commander gave his only command with a calm, strong voice.

“Charge.”

And so they did. First, the men in front, shields so steady they looked as if they were floating, short-swords ready to stab and cut. Second the spear-men, shields pushing the backs of the frontlines, three meters long spears on hand, pointing straight ahead.  
Then followed the last line, composed mostly by boys fresh off Sparta, their own spears accompanying the ones from the middle line.  
The phalanx moved fast and precise, one singular beast formed by men moulded in its shape from birth.

Kassandra fell with the second line as they moved. She picked a target from the men in the Athenian line. He was on the second line of their shield-wall. A few grey hairs escaped his helmet. His brown eyes were calm and collected. A veteran of many fights. A good target to take down.

* * *

She heard the shields crushing to each other first. Like a row of blacksmiths hitting anvils one after another.   
Then came the screaming. The coordinated yell of the Spartans, the manic, defiant shouting of the Athenians and the sudden cries of pain from both sides as metal found flesh.  
A spear pierced through her helmet’s purple plum, cutting loose some of the horsehairs. Her own spear found flesh, then bone and she lost her grip. Before she could lower her hand to her sword, her own shield found shield.

All sounds were muffled and time stood still. All her thoughts vanished, and she retreated to the very primal parts inside her.   
Her mouth was open, so she must have been screaming. Her hand was holding on her sword, so she must have reached for it. The sound of a spear hissing next to her ear was heard, so she must have dodged it.

Another was aimed at her left leg. She stepped on it and buried its blade in the sand. It came from her left, the side that didn’t have the protection of another man.  
Behind the shield, she felt the man opposed to her back up, gathering his strength for another push. She waited the split second it took him to do so, then pulled back right as he pushed. Not finding a counter, his force pulled him away from his companions. The sand at her feet was painted red as a Spartan spear bit at the opportunity.  
A sword hit her from the left, it was blocked from the shield. A spear pierced through from the right, it passed right below her armpit. She cut it with a small strong cut.  
She leapt forward like a lioness, crushing through the middle of two weakly held shields and landing in the middle of the Athenian front line. She blocked another blow from the left by instinct. Before the second line drew swords, she punched the man to her right with the shield, breaking his composure. Another Spartan spear found a target.  
Two swords hit the left side of her shield. One more came from the right, trying to find her sword-arm. Too fast for his strike, she simply raised her arm, then brought it down. His fingers still held to the sword, detached from his arm. His scream was mixed with dozens of others.  
She was already pushing to the left, as a Spartan boy from the backline took place to her right. Blocking a sword blow to her shin, she caught a glimpse of him.  
Only slightly older than Phoibe, he looked like a child playing dress-up with his father’s armour. He blocked a spear from reaching her face and that impression was gone as fast as it came.   
Her attention turned back to the men that stood against her. Always pushing front and to the left, she fainted a strike towards a blue-eyed man’s face. When he lifted his shield to block, she quickly slashed through his shins. The pain caused him to involuntary drop the shield, allowing her to slash through the middle of his face with the same swing. 

Hours passed. Or was it moments?

Another man fell in front of her. Another shield came to meet her own. Her shield-hand was getting numb. A sword managed to reach her right shoulder, cutting her slightly before she moved away from the bronze blade.  
She roared in a fit of rage and jumped three steps back. Surprised, the Athenians in front of her were slow to act.  
She freed her arm from the shield straps and threw the shield like a disk in front of her. They raised their own shields to block it, but the man she aimed for was too late. His face almost folded in two for a second, then crumbled to the sand, the huge shield wedged to his face.  
She pulled the half-spear from her thigh. She grinned white teeth to the men ahead of her. Her sword was drenched in their comrades' blood, a stream of her own was flowing from her left arm as she raised the golden spear blade. Her helmet’s plume was sliced in half, the helmet itself covered in red droplets. Her brown eyes flashed with murderous intent.  
If the soldiers had scuffed at the demi-goddess rumours, they finally understood.

The ones that dropped their weapons and ran lived longer. The ones that stood their ground would find themselves talking with Charon soon.

The fight still raged on in the middle and right ranks. But on the left, a whirlwind of gold and silver tore through armour and flesh.  
Kassandra had moved so that her back was on the sea and was forcing the Athenians’ right flank to collapse to their middle.  
No spear that was thrust against her kept its blade. No sword found its target. As the destroyed spears were pulled back so that their holders would take out their swords she kicked the closest shield. The man holding it flattered and her spear blade found his forehead. The man on his right had his sword out already and moved for a stab while her left side was open. She took the hit, refusing to let go of the spear. Her armour took most of the damage, but red began flowing between the metal.  
A sword from her right. Blade found blade and both bent at the strike. The point was still good, so Kassandra threw it straight towards the man’s eyes. He lifted his shield faster than she expected, blocking the attempt. She blinked at him, surprised.  
A hoplite saw the opportunity and charged, shield in front, sword pointing from the side. He was the only one. Kassandra regained her composure and simply leapt on top of his shield. He lost control from the sudden change in weight and let it plant on the ground, dragging him down. She took the sword from his hand as she stabbed his exposed nape with the golden-red spear.  
She balanced on top of the shield for a second, examining the horrified expressions of the men in front of her.  
They finally broke ranks and run for their lives.

Immediately, the Spartan phalanx broke in two. One half remained on their lines, fighting. The other broke into small groups of two men and they passed through the broken Athenian left flank, crushing on the remaining fighting Athenians like an avalanche from the side.

Moving her eyes from the slaughter, Kassandra jumped off the shield and picked it up, examing it. It was of slopy design, heavier than her own, despite the smaller size.  
She let it fall to the blood-stained sand and looked to the armies. The Spartans had taken on capturing those who surrendered and killing those that refused. The battle was won. In the sea behind her, the only sails still standing were the deep red and yellow of her ship.

* * *

The late afternoon sun painted the horizon red as Kassandra walked through the small port. Her battered shield was hanging from her back. She was resting her helmet on her left hand, carrying a medium-sized sack with her right. Money and loot that would feed and dress her crew. 

As the Adrestia came into view she scanned the crew’s faces, looking for one in particular. When she failed to spot it, she picked up her pace, increasingly worried.

“Who you looking for?”

The familiar voice came from behind her. Kassandra relaxed and turned her head to the sound.

“Barnabas,” she said smiling. “Obviously.”

“Ha!” Roxana scoffed as she walked up to Kassandra's side. “You better tell him to keep better track of his crew.”

“Something happened?” Kassandra asked, not too worried.

“He almost rammed the Athenian ship I was in,” Roxana answered, a faint smile already rising.

“Were you supposed to be on that ship?”

“Well... Doesn't matter. I cleared the whole ship myself.” she dodged the question.

“You'll tell me the story tonight, as I will tell you mine. But-”

They paused as some of the crew came to relieve Kassandra off her weapons and bounty.

“But that doesn’t tell me if the old-man knew you were missing.” Kassandra continued, stretching her shoulders as they walked.

“I was weaving and yelling for a good minute before he noticed it was me. I mean, do I look Athenian?” They reached the Adrestia and Roxana said the last sentence louder for Barnabas to hear.

“How could I even imagine that you had jumped in as we rammed them the first time?” he protested.

“She’s been with us for a year now, surely you’ve noticed how crazy she gets?” Kassandra’s answer earned her a light blow on the side. Thankfully, not to the injured one. Smiling, she continued. “But she is too gorgeous to mistaken her for an Athenian, she has a point there.” This gained her a bright smile.

Barnabas gave the sky an exasperated look and then walked forward to give his captain a welcoming hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Bernard Cornwell's way of writing shield-wall scenes. Speaking of which, you should read The Warlord Chronicles if you haven't. Absolutely fantastic books.


End file.
